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Travel Notes: What’s a Julep? Negotiating the 200 miles from Nashville to Memphis can create a thirst, and in the capital of the most southern place in America, what better way is there to quench a road thirst than with a mint julep? I came to know the mint julep on the Journey. Jonathan Daniels mentioned that he drank juleps during his travels and took great care to note the regional variations in this classic beverage. Solely to make the book more authentic , I did the same, though I did make a slight detour into Sazeracs while visiting New Orleans. But that’s a whole different story. The term julep comes from a Persian word meaning “rosewater.” In the Middle Ages in England, it was a term to describe sugary syrup often mixed with foul-tasting medicines. The mint is an American addition, adding the plant’s own medicinal qualities to the mixture. The mint julep is thought to have originated in Virginia where mint was used to mask the “kick” of rough whiskey. A hardworking man might need the occasional mid-morning invigoration of a toddy of water and whiskey. It’s now considered a truly southern drink and the forerunner of the present-day mojito. During the Journey, I experienced both the rough whiskey and the need for invigoration. Some people taste their first julep at the Kentucky Derby, but the track at Churchill Downs is no place to get your first mint julep—because they make a pretty bad one. One reason the drink has fallen into disfavor during the past few generations is that too many people first sample a mint julep at Churchill Downs. The center of high-class Delta culture is the Peabody Hotel in Memphis. As David Cohen observed in 1935: The Peabody is the Paris Ritz, the Cairo Sheperd’s, the London Savoy of this section. If you stand near its fountain in the middle of the lobby...ultimately you will see everybody who is anybody in the Delta. So how good is the mint julep at the center of the Delta? After I checked in at my hotel (not the Peabody, by the way), I headed to the 183 Peabody to check out the lobby bar. Like most downtown hotels throughout the country, the Peabody hit hard times during the 1950s when central cities deteriorated and suburbs boomed. It closed in the early 1970s, but reopened in 1981. When it reopened, the new owners reinstituted a Peabody tradition—the duck march. Each morning, ducks parade from their rooftop home to the lobby by way of the hotel elevator. The ducks swim in the lobby fountain throughout the day. The cocktail hour starts with the ducks, led by the duck master, marching to the elevator with a pomp and circumstance to return to the roof. I missed the duck parade, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t there to watch ducks waddle from the lobby pond into an elevator. I was there to test the Peabody’s claim of having the best juleps in the Delta. The lobby bar at the Peabody is a pretty place. At 8:00 p.m. on a weekday, it was fairly crowded with businessmen crouched over drinks and engaged in high-level discussions. Tourists sat gawking at the stained glass and the beamed ceiling. A piano player entertained, while I waited a long time to be served. I placed my order and, after another fairly long wait, the mint julep arrived. It was made with a premixed bourbon and sugar mixture and served in a glass with cubes of ice. It wasn’t much— mediocre at best. About the only thing that kept it from being “puredee lousy” was the fact that they at least garnished the drink with fresh mint. Otherwise it was a just an $8.00 headache-maker. Even though my experience at the Peabody was not particularly positive , I’ve continued my field research on the mint julep. The mint julep is not a complicated drink, but it does require forethought. First, get some fine—really fine—spring water. Then make what’s called “simple syrup” or sugar water by boiling the fine spring water with cane sugar. While the sugar water is hot, put it in a mason jar and add a bunch, and I mean a whole lot, of mint leaves. No stems, just leaves please. Let the concoction cool for two to twelve hours. Take the leaves...

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